There IS such a thing as too much nagging.
When my fiancé and I moved to Tennessee, he told me one of the main reasons he was doing so was because I wanted to live here. Well, that, and the fact that he got a job.
Before we made the move, we visited just to see if we could "one day" live in the South. To my surprise, he really loved Nashville. About a month later, a job was presented to him, and after a few one-on-one conversations with the company and an in-person interview, he landed the job.
My family wasn't thrilled we were moving away from them but it was a great opportunity for us to learn and be out on our own.
We were thrilled with how our apartment looked because we weren't able to come down and physically see it before we moved in; we had only seen it in photos. The area we lived in seemed peaceful and friendly.
The morning my family left (they had helped us move to Nashville), we were both emotionally fine; just exhausted. But for me, the weeks that followed were hell; I missed my family so badly. And yet: moving was my decision, so I had no one to blame beside myself.
My fiancé was a new employee, so he was trying to get used to his new job. And then there was me, weeping and complaining over everything that happened.
I couldn't find a job, so I complained.
I couldn't hang out with him, so I complained.
He was tired and wanted to go to sleep after a long day at work, so I complained.
I was bored and just sat in our apartment, so I complained.
Do you see a trend going on here? I pushed myself to venture out on my own. That made me feel a bit better, but later on, I was right back where I started.
My fiancé decided a dog would cheer me up, so we started talking about adopting one. The problem was we were still getting settled and having a dog is a ton of work. But when I began freelancing for the local newspaper and had to go to an animal shelter for one of my stories, I found a dog I fell in love with and showed him to my fiancé. We rushed back to see him and he wanted him as well. So we got him.
As the weeks went by, I wasn't sure about the dog; I felt like he was holding us back from going out, having fun and being on our own. Also, I was acting like a child and saying my fiancé was paying more attention to him than me. It was an awful mess that kept growing and getting worse.
Nearly every day, my fiancé would come home and reminded me that this decision was made together and we had to live with it. It wasn't like he was pulling my arm or anything. The reality of our situation hit me so hard because for so long after we relocated, I refused to deal with my emotions. I didn't think about how he'd feel or what would be going through his mind or how we would both get through this transition; I just thought about being out on our own. (I'm glad I didn't think about it because I might not have moved here.)
As weeks went on, we fought constantly about the same thing: our decision to move here and me not having anyone besides him to confide in. The breaking point"came when I insulted him. I'm not even sure what I said to make him snap because all I cared about was myself and my feelings but turned to me and said, "F*ck you!" He would never say such a thing. For him to say that point-blank, I knew I pushed him too far. He told me if I wasn't happy, then I should just leave.
I felt like I was going to throw up. I hurt the person I love most in the world because I was too busy complaining about a situation I put myself into. If his words didn't work on me, we were done. He told me he couldn't live like this and he wasn't babying me. So my choices were to shape up or he was done. From that point on, I accepted the situation and grew the hell up — fast.
All photos: Stephanie Rose
There was a lesson to be learned in all of this — and I knew it. If he would have complained as much as I had, I probably would have ended things, too.
After that, I zipped my lips, accepted the situation for what it is and started to think positive thoughts. Whenever I felt myself about to complain, I devoted my energy into something else. The more I did, the less I complained and so, in the end, we were fine.